browse: poetry:

collaboration: results 1–5 of 5


30 January 2010
Vol. 9, No. 4

not sure. the sun. but we knew.

the afternoons became burdens.

something to throw away late

at night. along with certain

perishables. under the yellowing

light the pickle jar. then morning

peeled peaches. then a still


After Phosphorescence  by NELLIE BELLOWS & KEVIN MCLELLAN

27 January 2010
Vol. 9, No. 4

A smack of jellyfish gelatinizes

the beach: man-o-war

blue bottles pop from hot

sand: tide churns these alien

bodies: we wonder why we

gather and destruct

Dear Animal Collective—  by SIMONE MUENCH & PHILIP JENKS

29 May 2009
Vol. 9, No. 1

Your skin's gone Mahler. I'm a toxin in your throbbing,

I'm spindle to your tumble & speak fluent blue heron

& not just with the radio, no. The white-handed gibbon

goading the night resounds in caged stages.


28 March 2008
Vol. 8, No. 1

I wield a potent vocabulary. You're pulchritudinous. I napped

through English class. You know. Like. Um. Ah. You're hot.

Do you remember what I said, that night in the car?

You don't? Me neither. But at the time, it was true.

Dear with Extremes of Thirst and Pain  by ADRIAN LURSSEN & SUSAN TICHY

14 December 2007
Vol. 7, No. 4

First eyelids and lips are closed, then open. Now, open eyes appear unseeing. A kind of dreaming.

For thousands of years people have carried their faces this way, one by one, only on their heads.

Under these conditions nothing is harder to control than reason. You babble without speaking,

march into the desert without water. We will die tomorrow, the day after at the latest.


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